


Where No Bittle Has Gone Before

by orphan_account



Series: The Final Frontier [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alien Jack, Angst, Betazoid Bitty, Enemies to Lovers, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Star Trek AU, brief mentions of star trek characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-11 03:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eric Bittle isn't the first half-Betazoid on a Starfleet ship, but those who came before him were not welcome, so he plans to keep what he is secret.  It's not so easy, however, when he's assigned to the Falconer, under the newly appointed Captain Jack Zimmermann-- a person with a past, who does not appreciate weakness.  Eric doesn't know if he can get past the icy exterior of his captain, but he's nothing if not stubborn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I recently got into Check, Please and this is my first fic so hopefully it's okay. I don't get much writing done because I'm in college, but I was watching binging Enterprise and got inspired by the idea of half-Betazoid Bitty. Think of this as somewhere before Betazoids were really acceptable as being officers.
> 
> There will be more ships, but since Zimbits is the main ship, it's the only one tagged.
> 
> Debrune are canon--though only ever mentioned, and them living on Delta Vega isn't canon, but I wanted the continuity with the whole Jack/Ice thing, so I made that up.
> 
> Uhhhh...usual disclaimers apply--I don't own Check, Please or Star Trek, but I love playing in their world.
> 
> I have a tumblr (same name as my user name here) but I'm never on it.
> 
> I think that's about it. Hope you enjoy. I'll update soon as I can.

His breath comes in a slightly shaky pant as he stands in front of the door to the bridge. His hands have a slight tremble as he fights off the urge to _feel_ everything around him, terrified of being found out, terrified of suppressing his nature. But he brushes his arm along his Starfleet sleeve, along the insignia on his chest which is now linked to the comms which makes it _official_. He’s now Lt. Eric R. Bittle, son of Admiral Eric R. Bittle Sr, who is now sitting in a plush office on Earth instead of the Captain’s chair on the Madison.

The promotion didn’t come without a price—being reassigned to the Falconer with the newly appointed Captain Jack Zimmermann was a prestigious offer, but it ripped Eric away from everything he’d ever known, and from the protection his father gave him since the stigma against Betazoids on Starfleet ships was still strong. It was getting better, but there were few heroes of his own kind in Starfleet history.

“Just keep your head down, keep quiet, don’t let anyone know.”

Both of his parents had coached him with those words as he grew up, telling his parents he wanted to be like his father. It would have been easier if he’d gone into counseling, but it was too easy to be found out that way—people would start to ask how Eric simply _knew_ things about the members of the crew he shouldn’t, and then people would start digging.

For all intents and purposes, Eric was the human child of Eric Bittle Sr and a human woman from the small state of Georgia who died during his birth. Suzanne, according to Starfleet Records, never had contact with anyone from Earth. She certainly hadn’t gone through a long pregnancy, and certainly hadn’t given birth to a blonde-haired baby boy with deep, emotion-filled, dark eyes which, no matter how hard they tried, were hard to mask.

But the story had worked well enough. Eric had grown up terrified, overwhelmed by being able to _feel_ everything, and worried that one day his powers might become as strong as his mother’s. He wasn’t sure he could ever handle that. The kids growing up had never left Eric alone. Eric—who was too quick to cry, who excelled in so many things, but would collapse when things got to be too much. He barely passed the academy, and it was by nepotism alone he’d been allowed a place on a ship.

But he’s proven himself, and with his father being reassigned to Earth, and with his new promotion as a Communications Officer, he felt he’d earned his title.

He hoped.

The Falconer was a step up. And Eric knew very well the history of Captain Zimmermann—of what he’d gone through at the academy, of how everything had fallen apart, though most of those records were sealed. But Jack had spent four years proving himself on the Samwell, and had been assigned to the Falconer after Captain St. Martin had retired, and they were remanning some of the crew.

Eric knew several members from The Samwell had come with Captain Zimmermann, and he knew that it was a tight-knit crew, and it would probably take some time for Eric to fully integrate himself. He knew what he had to do. He had to be efficient, quiet, careful, and smart. He’d prove himself in no time, and with any hope, if the crew ever found out, it wouldn’t be until Eric had proven himself to be indispensable.

~~~ 

“And this is you, bro.”

Eric smiled, breathing through the pulsing emotions hitting him in waves. It would get easier, when his nerves calmed, when he got to know these people. But right now it was like being beaten in the face with pillows full of emotion. Luckily Lt. Oluransi—or Ransom, as he was insisting on being called, was nothing more than just excited to show Eric around. He was tall, bright-eyed, a lilting accent, huge shoulders which Eric could appreciate the way they filled out his uniform.

His other half was another man just as tall and broad as him, but with a booming voice and an almost musical lilt to his voice. He’d introduced himself as Holster, though Eric thought his name was something like Birkholtz. They were both science officers, and Eric would be reporting to them over the next few days since their current communications officer, Lt. Duan, was off-ship for the next few weeks.

Eric was now standing in front of his quarters, the recently vacated rooms of Johnson, the former officer whose place Eric was taking. “I hope y’all are okay with me here instead of him,” Eric said, fiddling with the panel on the side of the door, but not opening it. “I know it’s tough to lose a member and…”

“Chill, bro,” Ransom said, laying a large hand over Bitty’s shoulder. “Johnson was a weird dude. Like a good dude, but a weird dude. Right before he announced his transfer request, he dragged Zimms out of his chair and hugged him and said, ‘It’s time to get this AU really going.’ No one knows what the actual hell he was talking about but he seemed excited to go. And you seem like a chill guy.”

“Thanks,” Eric said. He felt a sudden itch for something—baking, maybe. It was one of his favorite ways to meditate through the anxiety, and he had a feeling this crew might enjoy pies. “Is there a kitchen here or…”

“Bro,” Ransom said, his eyes twinkling. “This way.”

Eric walked off after his superior officer without even getting a first look at his rooms.

~~~ 

“Why the fuck does it smell so fucking good in here?” came a voice unfamiliar to Eric.

He turned to see a man in the doorway, shorter than most of the crew he’d met so far, and thinner. He had a thick stache under his nose, almost enough to rival his dad’s, and he had wide, bright eyes that looked more excited than suspicious.

Eric bit his lip. “Uh. I baked?”

“You…baked. You baked. You McFuckin Baked.”

Eric shifted from one foot to the other. “I know it’s unorthodox, but Lt. Oluransi said no one would mind if I….”

His words cut off when the red-shirted officer pushed past him and dove into the cherry pie without a fork. It was hot—hot enough that Eric was almost bowled over by a wave of pain, but the guy just…kept going. Fingers pushing through the mess as he shoveled crust and cherries into his mouth.

“Holy fuck, I’m so in love with you right now I could cry,” he said, voice sticky with syrup. “Seriously, do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had this…I mean I don’t think we’ve ever…I just…”

Eric felt his eyes get hot with the projected tears the other man was _crying_ , and he had to take a break, turning his face away. “It’s fine. I’m glad you like it.” He grabbed a towel from the counter and passed it over after dragging it through a stream of water, and smiled a little half-smile when he watched the man clean himself up.

“I’m Shitty, by the way.”

Eric blinked at him. “I…”

“First Officer Knight,” he clarified, “but I don’t like being reminded of my bigoted, shit-head of a father who…” Shitty took a breath. “Just call me Shitty. Literally everyone but Captain Jacky-boy does.”

Eric almost choked. “Captain Zimmermann lets you…”

“I’m a special case,” Shitty interrupted. “Have you met our illustrious Capitanne yet?”

Eric shook his head. “I know…some. About him, I mean. He’s…isn’t he a…”

“Debrunite?” Shitty offered.

Eric knew a fair amount about Debrunites. They were a species related to the Mintakan, had developed somewhere in the Vulcan system. Thousands and thousands of years ago, their planet had been destroyed by a predatory race, taking with it records of their society, and the attack itself. All historians knew now was that the survivors of the attack managed to escape to Delta Vega. They had adapted to the impossibly frigid conditions of the ice planet, had survived under ground for so long, so isolated, people had forgotten about them.

Then, several hundred years ago, an exploration team had landed on Delta Vega, and much like First Contact with the Vulcans, the Debrunites had slowly trickled into the Federation. They were still mistrusted, young enough no one could be sure of their intentions. But it had been long enough, and people knew now that they were not nearly as volatile and hostile as the Romulans, and they were not _as_ logical and without outward emotion as the Vulcans.

But they were cold—both metaphorically and physically. Enhanced suits were necessary to keep them functioning off Delta Vega, and they hadn’t fully adapted to the customs of others.

They weren’t as mistrusted in Starfleet as the Betazoid were, but it was close. And Eric knew what it was like to feel the weight of mistrust simply for existing as you were.

“He can be a tough cookie to crack, but he’s a good guy. Don’t let his icy exterior put you off, yeah? I mean, I know how a lot of people feel about brahs like Jack joining Starfleet but…”

“I think anyone should be allowed to join. As long as they want to. Everyone is capable,” Eric said, letting a bit of his own emotion color his tone. “I mean…” he flushed, “there’s so much prejudice—for all that we’ve said it’s time to move on from it and I just…” He sighed. “It’s hard.”

Shitty shook his head but was smiling. Then he threw an arm around Eric’s shoulders and squeezed. “M’dude, you’ll do fine here. I was worried you might be some bigoted, dickhead coming from a Starfleet Admiral for your dad and believe me I know how that shit is but…you’re alright.

 

Eric couldn’t help his laugh. “Uh…thanks? I was…”

His words cut off when the door slid open, and he was hit with a sudden burst of cold, and annoyed. It was strong enough to make him suck in a sharp breath, and he turned to see a man hovering in the doorway. It wasn’t anything he was wearing, but with the sheer authority he looked at Eric that he knew—this was Jack Zimmermann. His dark hair was combed without a strand out of place, his eyebrows sharply angled up, pointed ears perfectly aligned. His eyes were an almost viciously light blue, and his full mouth was twisted into a frown.

“What is this?”

“Jacky-boy!” Shitty crowed, shoving Eric forward a little. “This is our new Johnson. Eric Bittle. Bits, this is Captain Jack Zimmermann, Boss-man extraordinaire!”

“It’s nice to meet you Jack,” Eric said, stepping forward and trying to ignore the pulsing coldness being projected straight into his chest. He went for a smile. “I’m really excited to be here. It’s an honor that you…”

“Bittle,” Jack barked, and Eric’s mouth clamped shut without warning.

He blinked up at Jack whose sharp eyes gave him a slow, dragging once over.

Eric felt the emotion behind the words before Jack spoke them. Then his voice, heavy with accent said, “You’re small, and you don’t look like you can hold your own in combat. The Falconer isn’t a combat ship, but we face conflict enough. Either get it together, or get off my crew.” He paused, then said, “Try eating more protein,” casting a glower at the pie before turning on his heel and storming out.

Wide-eyed, Eric turned back to Shitty who only sighed. “He’ll warm up to you man. So to speak.”

Then he was gone, leaving Eric alone to his utter, and complete dismay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are things from both canons I'm manipulating for the sake of my story, so please take everything with a tiny grain of salt lol. Hopefully though, I stay true enough to both that fans will stay happy.
> 
> As before, I own none of this, which is a good thing because there's no way I could handle the responsibility.

“…and they used the word theory. Twice. TWICE, bro. Like, am I really supposed to just ignore that? I’m supposed to just be okay if…”

“It was twenty-first century bad cop TV, Rans. Maybe like…chill?”

“Oh my god, Nurse do you want to go? I will literally fight you right here.”

“If you two fight over the holodeck one more time, the Captain said he’s going to shut it down for good.”

“No he won’t. He only threatens to shut us up,” Ransom said.

“Yeah, C,” the other one said, “just like he told Shitty he was banning all of that Earth shit he keeps smoking. But we know he’s a softie when it comes to Shits, and to Rans because he’s half Debrunite…”

“It’s not nepotism,” Ransom said with a sniff, then turned in the still blank holodeck and startled to see Eric standing awkwardly in the doorway. His eyes brightened immediately and he beckoned him in. “Bits, dude! You off duty? We were just about to get this bitch started up with some hospital drama…”

“Detective drama,” the other guy said. He was as tall as Ransom, his curls a little longer, and a tattoo on his exposed arm. “We’re not doing another ER…”

“Fuck you, man,” Ransom said, and wrapped an arm around Eric’s neck. “You want to play with doctors or detectives, Bits?”

“Uh.” Eric shifted nervously on his feet. “Well, I wasn’t here to…I just uh. Was a little lost so um…”

“Are you supposed to be on the bridge?” the third guy asked. He was bouncing a little nervously on his feet, like he was ready to jump in if the other two men decided to start going at it again. “I can walk you. I’m Chris…or uh… I’m Lt. Chow? I’m Master-At-Arms um…” He gave a small smile toward Eric. “I joined up with Captain Zimmermann, so I haven’t been here long but if you need help…”

“Thanks,” Eric said with a grateful grin. “I’m not supposed to be on the bridge. The Captain sent me a message and wants me to go over some of the communication records? I guess there was some issues with a couple distress calls the last time they were near the Aces.”

“Yeah,” Ransom said, and both his rush of emotions and his face was a complicated mess. “They got out of it.”

“Yeah. The Captain just wants to see if I can pick up anything that Lt. Duan missed,” Eric said, feeling a little uncomfortable that he was stepping on toes.

“I can take you,” Ransom said, pulling Eric a little closer. “You two have fun with your stupid detectives and their misuse of the word theory and…” His rant trailed off as they slipped out of the holodeck and into the corridor. “You good, Bits?”

Eric blinked, startled because he was trying harder than ever to keep everyone’s emotions at bay. He’d never forget the Academy, of the Zanthi fever. Of being found out, and locked up and…

“Hey.”

Eric blinked up at Ransom who had dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Sorry. Sorry it’s just…been a lot.”

“Yeah bro, no worries.” Ransom stared at him for a long time, then smiled. “You’ve got some wicked dark eyes, dude.”

Eric felt his entire body seize for a minute, and he glanced away, willing Ransom not to look too hard. “I…uh. So did my mom,” he muttered. He licked his lips, and they resumed walking. “So you and the Captain are…both of you uh…”

“Debrunite,” Ransom said, and he tapped the door panel, stepping aside in case anyone was on the other side. When it was clear, he ushered Eric through. “He has more traits than I do, but I actually grew up on Earth. Jack didn’t.” Ransom shrugged. “We get along most of the time but uh…not always.”

Eric bit his lip. “He really seems to hate me.”

“Just give him time,” Ransom said.

Eric was getting just a little tired of hearing that. Give him time. He didn’t expect the same level of attention he’d gotten on the Madison, of course. He’d wanted to do this, to branch out on his own, to prove himself, prove he was capable without the nepotism his father’s name afforded him. But that was going to be a lot harder when his captain couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Maybe he knew. Jack’s race, like the Vulcans, like the Romulans, were logical. Sometimes to a terrifying degree. It wouldn’t take Jack long to work out what Eric was, to see him as a risk rather than an asset. The Debrunites were more emotional than the Vulcans, but they were nothing like humans, and certainly nothing like Betazoids.

But the ship was diverse, he reminded himself. Humans weren’t elevated beyond other races, and a half human was captaining. He was getting worked up over nothing, and that would only weaken his system and put him at risk of another outbreak. He knew if that happened again, if the consequences were severe enough, his career with Starfleet would be over before it began. And he didn’t even want to think of the consequences that would fall, not only on him, but the reputation and future of his father.

*** 

“Riddle me this,” Holster said, his cheeks bulging with pie, “how do you make it taste…like it literally came from earth? I mean…seriously, bro. There’s no way these are real peaches.”

Eric laughed. “You’d be surprised at what you can figure out with tech and determination.” Swiping his hands on his apron, he shrugged it off and leaned against the counter. “I’m glad y’all like it.”

“More than. You’re officially an asset to the ship,” Ransom said, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “How was your first day, anyway?”

“Oh.” Eric shrugged. “It was fine. I didn’t find anything yet, but I’ll be working on the bridge in a few minutes with the recordings. It’s probably nothing to worry about, but if I can set the captain’s mind at ease…” Then maybe he won’t hate me as much, Eric finished to himself. He hadn’t seen the captain much that day, but the two times they’d run into each other in the corridors, he was fixed with an icy stare and a downturned mouth.

Eric did his best to ignore his desire to probe into the captain, to see if there was anything he could feel that would allow Eric to get past the dislike, but it was difficult. Eric did not enjoy when people didn’t like him.

“I’ll walk you,” Holster said, clapping one hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I’m taking over for Lt. Ford.”

Eric nodded, and swallowed down his trepidation as he made sure not a speck of flour could be seen on his uniform. The walk to the bridge was a lot shorter than Eric would have preferred, and soon enough the door was sliding open and although he’d been given a tour, there was something sort of…big, about the way it felt to walk in on duty.

The Captain was there, seated in his chair looking somehow nonchalant and yet full of poise and power. It would be days before they reached their destination, assuming they didn’t encounter any conflicts on the way, and even on the Madison, it had taken Eric some time to get used to how much downtime they had. He’d spent years reading over old records of the greats, and everything had seemed so intense, so…constant. He’d expected more.

“Number One,” Jack barked, interrupting the still, tense silence.

Shitty, who was lounging in one of the chairs with his legs spread wide, eyes slightly glazed, gave him a mock salute. “Yes, mon capitanne.”

Jack scowled at him. “At attention please. I need the report on Providence VI.”

Shitty sighed, but stood up and walked to the control panel behind him, typing in the report numbers. It flared up on the screen just as Eric took his seat, and he faced his communications board rather than trying to read over his captain’s shoulder.

“Who is the current ambassador?” Jack asked after a moment. “There was just a change of command, yes?”

“That would be Mashkov, sir,” Chow said from his seat. “Martin was relieved of duty after the Klingon attack last month.”

Eric knew about that. His father had been involved in the peace proceedings that followed. It had been a rogue Klingon ship, the attack unprompted. Still, there had been whisper of war, which set Eric on edge. He’d never been near such conflict before, and he wasn’t sure his mind could handle it.

“Get him on the line,” Jack said, then pushed up to a stand. “I’ll take it in the Ready Room.”

And then he was gone, and the crew on deck let out a collective sigh of relaxation the moment the door slid shut. There was a pause, then a strange hiss, then the heady smell of smoke coming from Shitty’s general direction. Chow started bantering with Dex, one of the new Science Officers brought on board from the Samwell, and faintly, from somewhere off, Eric heard music start up.

It allowed him a moment to relax, at least, and he slipped his earpiece in to start up the recordings, certain he wasn’t going to find anything, but glad to have something to keep him busy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I managed to work Beyonce and figure skating into this. I'm kind of proud of that rn not gonna lie lol.

They were a week out from Providence VI and everything was going fine. Eric was getting through the recordings at near warp speed, and they hadn’t encountered anything rockier than an Endosian trader ship which had gone dangerously low on fuel supply. A little help, and a quick meeting with their ship’s captain and then they were on their way.

Eric was starting to relax. He was getting to know the crew, had been all-but taken under Ransom and Holster’s wing in a way he hadn’t expected from the two rambunctious, overzealous officers. He knew it was dangerous, knew he shouldn’t drop his guard, but it was hard to want to protect his secret so fiercely when everyone was so welcoming. When he relaxed, he could feel bits and pieces of them all over. The stress of the captain, the occasional worry of the crew, the almost overwhelming sense of peace when they got together to relax, to talk about what it had been like on the Samwell. The captain even smiled once or twice, a blossom of warmth blooming in the center of Eric’s chest which almost knocked him over.

When it was becoming too much, and he was off duty, Eric would sneak into the holodeck and fire up an old program he’d used on the Madison. There had been a woman from earth with him, Katya, who had spent most of her life figure skating. When Eric was nine, she’d taken one look at him, then dragged him onto a holographic ice rink and taught him everything she knew. He’d been good at it, skating through imagined championship after imagined championship. Then he’d gone off to the academy, and then the fever had happened and then…

Then it had lost its appeal. Katya had gone, and Eric was alone with his father, and he’d been too afraid to set foot on ice again.

But here felt different. The Falconer felt like the Madison had, when he was young. Like hope and a fresh start.

It was with that hope and that fresh start that led him to the holodeck late, long after everyone had eaten, and had retired to their own quarters. Eric set the scene—an ice rink on earth, empty stands, the ice itself freshly cleaned. Eric saw the skates waiting for him on the bench near the entrance to the rink, and he went through the motions, pulling them on, tight tugs of the laces, the way the leather hugged his ankles.

The music started the moment his blade first touched, soft, sweet music from a century he barely remembered from his text books. _“…baby they’re tumblin’ down, they didn’t even put up a fight, they didn’t even make a sound…”_

It was easy to lose himself the moment he let go of all the stress, of all the ways he was holding back feeling the others on the ship. There was a cascade of notes and feelings hitting him all at once as he spun, then picked up speed. His feet left the ice in a short, double salchow. His landing wobbled a little, but he kept going. Waltz jump, into a spin, head tipped back and arms up.

He went on and on, looping the ice, feeling the music, feeling the crew, feeling the pinpricks of emotions from those not to far off from where they’re hurtling through empty space.

And then it all stopped.

He was hit suddenly with a burst of cold curiosity, a little confusion, and a little wonder. His feet skidded and he nearly hit the ice, but managed to spin and see his captain hovering in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. It was strange to see him in twenty first century clothes—jeans and a pull over which Eric tended to favor whenever he was off-ship or in the holos, and it looks strangely perfect, and strangely out of place on the captain.

“Mr. Bittle,” Jack said, his voice slightly clipped, and Eric was pretty sure that was the first time the captain had ever addressed him directly like that.

He came to a skidding stop near the wall of the rink, swiping a hand over his brow, heaving breath. “Captain,” he said, feeling his cheeks flushed red. “Sorry I…did you need…something?”

“It’s cold in here.” The reply was strange, but very Jack in a way, and Eric couldn’t help a small smile, even if Jack’s eyes were still narrowed and unfriendly. “Why are you…what is this?”

“Oh uh…” Eric rubbed the back of his neck, craning his head around to look at the ice, then back at his captain. “It’s uh…it’s an earth thing. They still do it sometimes, but this is…on the Madison I used to skate.”

The captain made a humming noise, and knelt down, pressing his long, thin fingers to the ice for a moment. “Holo ice isn’t the same.”

“No,” Eric said with a laugh, unable to help his strange surge of joy. He can’t even begin to be sure if it’s his emotions or someone else’s. He can’t imagine the captain being joyful about anything, an earth hobby in particular but…maybe. “Do you want to try it?”

Jack looked up, startled in a way Eric wasn’t used to seeing him. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Eric couldn’t help his grin getting even wider. “Don’t you come from an ice planet, Captain?”

Jack frowned, then scowled. “We hardly have time for such things as…this,” he waved his hand over the ice, then took a step back. “I need you on the bridge.”

It was a little like a blow to the sternum, the easy air between them suddenly gone. But he could still feel something hovering around Jack, something easier, maybe? Softer? Eric didn’t have a lot of practice reading races like Jack’s, where logic overcame emotion even if they hadn’t dedicated their entire being to the practice.

“Sure I…yes. I can do that.”

“Mr. Knight picked up on a signal from Kiberia’s moon, and was unable to decipher it. I want to ensure it’s not a distress signal. The Schooner was in the area not too long ago.”

“Yes, of course,” Eric said, and then without warning, Jack turned and was gone.

It was only then, in the sudden silence of the room that Eric realized the song was still playing.

_“…baby I can see your halo…you know you’re my saving grace…”_

\--- --- --- 

It probably would have been fine. Really. It was a language Eric hadn’t heard of before, so it would take him a little while to decipher it since it wasn’t in the ship’s databank. Jack did what any captain would have, and sent a team down, himself at the lead.

Shitty had taken command, and Eric was working diligently at his station until he felt it.

Not just distress, but fear and pain, and shock, because the team had been captured. They were in trouble, and it was overwhelming him to the point he could barely speak. He grabbed onto his console and managed to turn his head, just enough to catch Shitty’s eye.

“It’s a trap,” Eric managed. “It’s a…we have to send a rescue team. It was a trap.”

“Did you figure out what the signal said?” Shitty demanded, half rising.

Eric shuddered. “No it’s…I don’t know that this is a dialogue. I think it’s a program meant to sound like one, just enough that any cruiser that got near enough to pick it up would send someone to investigate. But they’re…they’re in trouble. Please, sir.”

Shitty’s eyes narrowed. “Bits, we should give them time. Jack would have my ass so fast if I panicked and sent a team down early to…”

“Trust me,” Eric said, and he stood up, just as Shitty approached him. He was cornered, and Shitty’s eyes were searching his. “Please,” Eric whispered. “They’re in pain. A lot of it.”

Ransom, Holster, Dex, and Jack.

It hurt to think about it, even beyond the pain he could feel coming from them. And the hostility of whatever was below.

“How do you know?” Shitty asked.

Eric bit his lip, glancing away, but he knew there was only one way to get Shitty to listen to him, to believe him. “I’ve never…no one knows,” he said, words hushed, hurried and terrified. “I’m…I have certain abilities that…”

Shitty’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing. “I trust you. Just tell me. You can trust me to, brah. I swear it.”

Eric could only feel truth in that, and a little love, something he imagined having a sibling would feel like. He swallowed thickly. “My mother’s a Betazoid,” he said very soft, very careful. “They knew—at the Academy they knew. But it got…it didn’t work out. My father had my records suppressed before I joined the Madison. Now I’m here and no one knows. You can’t tell anyone. I know what they think of telepaths.”

Shitty bit the inside of his cheek, then nodded. “Listen, Bits. I have a fuckin’ lot to say about what the purists in the Federation think regarding who can and can’t be on a ship, and we can get into that later. But you trusted me, and I’m trusting you.” He took a step back and looked at the crew. “Mr. Chow, Mr. Tangeredi, Miss Ford, suit up. Set phasers to stun, but don’t hesitate for even a fuckin’ second if you need to, do you understand. This is a rescue mission and no one is left behind.”

“Aye,” they echoed.

Shitty turned back to Eric. “It’s probably best if you…”

“Yes, yeah,” Eric said, because he was wholly unprepared to keep it together down there. Where it was all happening. “I’ll alert medbay.”

Shitty dropped his hand on Eric’s shoulder again, squeezing. “We’ll get them back. I promise.”

There was no lie in that, either, but Eric didn’t let himself hope. Not yet. But these people were his family now, and he wasn’t going to rest easy until everyone was aboard, and until he had proof in his own two hands, that they were all safe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack Zimmermann works harder than god.
> 
> It's been a challenge to marry the Jack Zimmermann year one personality with Debrunite, but I think I'm getting it? We shall see.

Eric was shaking his head before Shitty finished the question. “You don’t understand,” he said, almost desperately. “I can’t…”

“No one’s going to throw you off the ship, Bits,” Shitty said, taking him by the shoulders. Eric could feel the worry and stress pouring off him in waves. He could still feel the pain of the others, too. The threat was gone, dead or off world now, but the crew was still somewhere—except no one on the Falconer could find them. Buried deep in rock, or some sort of metal which blocked their scanners, time was ticking down.

Everyone was sure the crew wasn’t going to last much longer.

“It’s not about the ship,” Eric said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “If you think their life is worth more than my pride…” He breathed through his frustration. “I’ve spent my whole life being taught to repress it, Sir. I wouldn’t begin to know how to…how to pinpoint it.”

“You have to try. You’re the last shot we have, Bits. I can’t…I can’t leave them behind. None of them. Please.”

It was the quiet please, and the waves of desperation and grief rolling off Shitty which had Eric nodding his head, and following him down to the transporter room.

They were beamed onto the planet, and the air was humid and thick and acrid, but he could breathe as the walked toward the entrance to the stone temple. The people who had attacked the crew were not from this place—uninhabited for the most part, and barren. Shitty had managed to get one on board, who was now being interrogated by Mr. Chow, but that mattered far less than finding Jack, Ransom, and Holster.

Eric could feel them, but it was so jumbled, twisted up in the worry and emotions of the others who were walking just steps behind him. Eric stopped, then turned to the others. “You have to go. I can’t…y’all are distracting. You’re afraid and I can’t get a lock on anything. I just…feel it all.”

Shitty’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “How far? It’s not a good idea if we go back up to the ship. If there’s anything else here…”

“My phaser isn’t on stun,” he said, his voice heavy with purpose. “Trust me. Just go back up to the surface, and I promise to get you on the comm the second I find something.”

Shitty hesitated, but then nodded and led the others back out of the temple as Eric went forward.

In the end, it was far less climactic than he’d anticipated. Jack and the others were behind a heavy door made of a strange metal. But he was able to get it open with some ease. They were strapped to tables, and a strange, high-frequency noise was the source of their pain. He disabled the machine, got the others unstrapped, and soon enough, Mr. Oliver was beaming them aboard.

The three remained unconscious as the Falconer hit warp, as far from this place as quickly as they could make the distance, and Dr. Murray and Dr. Hall went to work on the fallen crew.

Eric quickly took his leave from the whole thing, his body shaking from exertion and from using what he’d spent so long being afraid of. He was sure it wouldn’t take long before the entire crew knew what he was, and how their captain and officers had been found. And maybe for a day or so he’d be the hero, but soon enough rumors about Betazoids would fly, and why they weren’t good to have on ship, and the dangers they posed and then…

Well.

Eric knew what came after that.

\--- --- --- 

“The Captain is requesting your presence on the bridge.”

Eric’s eyes snapped open at the sound over his comm, and his heart began to beat heavy in his throat. He peered at the little clock beside his bed and saw it was earlier than he ever wanted to be awake, and it was far too early for the main crew to be at their posts. It was no surprise that Captain Zimmermann—a man who worked harder than any god—would be there, but Eric enjoyed the little sleep he did get.

All the same, he also wasn’t a man who would ignore a direct order, so he shrugged into his uniform, and managed to tame his hair as best he could with a few swipes of his fingers, then shuffled off to the bridge for what was probably a quiet, private being let go.

His hands only shook a little.

Jack was in his Captain’s chair, leaned back and looking exhausted from his ordeal. But he’d recovered quickly and apart from the fatigue, was his old self. He gave Eric a careful look when Eric entered, and he didn’t beckon him over as Eric hovered near his own station.

“You were asleep,” Jack said in his perfunctory way.

Eric shrugged. “Uh, I mean…yes? But I was getting ready to…”

“My apologies for disturbing your rest,” Jack said, but there was no real apology in his tone, nor was there a dismissal back to his quarters. “I wanted to speak with you before the rest of the crew arrived.”

Eric bowed his head. “Right. Yeah I uh…” He swallowed thickly.

Jack rose, taking several steps toward Eric before coming to a stop, just out of reach. He looked strangely human then, apart from the ears and the eyebrows. His eyes were soft, and so, so blue, and his mouth was set in a line gentler than he normally wore it. “I owe you my many thanks, and my life. I don’t think I could have sustained under that device for much longer.”

“Oh.” Eric blinked, his throat going a little hot with emotion. He’d never been great at taking compliments, deserved or not. “It was nothing.”

“It’s illogical to assume that saving a life is nothing, Mr. Bittle,” Jack said. “More importantly, it was impossible that you on your own were able to find us, and more than that, it means the rescue beat the odds. That does not happen often.”

Eric tried to process what Jack was saying, and there was a strange, almost humming emotion coming from him he couldn’t quite work out. He tried to tune it out. “I just…did what anyone in my position would do.”

“Your position would offer you no additional qualifications to find us in such a scenario,” Jack replied. “Number One is aware of how you did it, but he suggested you and I have a candid conversation about it. He respects your privacy.”

Eric flushed. “Oh. That’s…real nice of him.”

“He’s been accused of overt niceness many times in the past,” Jack said, and there was just the barest flicker of a smile at the corners of his lips which almost felt like a sunrise to Eric. He had to look away.

It was now or never, he supposed, and Jack was all but asking him to come clean. It was only fair, he supposed, that his captain understand who he was—what he was—and how he’d managed to pull off what he did.

“My mother is a Betazoid,” he said, like pulling off a bandaid. “I’m half. I uh…I’m not a telepath or anything, but I can…”

“Sense emotion, feel it,” Jack said simply. “You were able to follow an emotion path to our location.”

“I felt your distress before we knew you were in trouble,” Eric said. “I’ve worked most of my life to tune it out, but it was…a lot.”

“To suppress your nature like that can only work against you,” Jack pointed out.

“Yeah well, when your dad is a Starfleet Admiral with a half-Betazoid son…” Eric laughed, a little bitter. “Hiding what I was is the only way I can be on a ship.”

Jack hummed, his mouth back into a thin line. Then he nodded. “We’ll begin training tomorrow just before shift.”

Eric blinked at him. “I…sorry, what? Training?”

“To focus your empath abilities to your advantage. You could easily be an asset to this crew beyond your communication stills, Mr. Bittle, if only you applied it.”

Eric felt his heart beating in his throat. “I…how could you…what uh…”

Jack’s brows dipped just slightly. “My people have spent hundreds of lifetimes carefully cultivating a balance between logic, emotion, and action. We are given this technique from a young age, and use it to our advantage. We do not see the logic in suppressing all emotion like the Vulcans, and we cannot allow ourselves the risk of rage and reaction like the Romulans. Perhaps we are not perfect, but I believe what I have learned can be of some assistance.”

“I just don’t know how to begin, Sir,” Eric said, flailing a little. “I mean, I’ve spent my entire life trying not to feel what other people feel.”

“I understand, and perhaps if you were younger, you wouldn’t have this fear. But I would like you to trust me. I think you are an asset to this crew, Mr. Bittle. Would you like to prove me right, or prove me wrong?” Though only the words were a challenge, there was an uptick to Jack’s left brow that had Eric’s heart thrumming against his ribs, threatening to break free.

Jack was offering hi everything he’d ever wanted—the chance to prove he would not harm his crew, that there was nothing inherently dangerous about what he was. That he could be a good person, and a good officer, and still be himself.

But the fear of failure threatened to drown him where he stood. His hands were shaking.

“Alright,” he said, and there, again, was that ghost of a smile on Jack’s face. “I trust you, Sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bittle. Feel free to take an extra hour today for yourself. But be prepared. We will start early, and you will be punctual. We’ll begin on the holodeck.”

“And how long will we train, Sir?” Eric asked.

Jack’s mouth quirked up even higher. “As long as it takes, Mr. Bittle.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are hella short, but I'm writing them between papers to help keep me from falling down into the horrible school work void, so I'm just posting as I go. I don't think updates will be this fast during the week, but I'll see what I can do. I'm glad other trek fans are enjoying this with me!

Eric’s stomach was in his throat as he headed down the corridor. He’d gotten the message, quietly beeping over his comm letting him know it was time to get up. What he really wanted was to sit inside a replicator and have it replicate coffee down his throat for a half hour, certain it was the only way he was going to survive this new plan his captain had for his future. A small part of him wanted to tell Jack not to bother, that kicking him off the ship would be a far less cruel fate.

But logic reminded Eric that not all Starfleet captains would do this. In fact, it was only by parental obligation alone that Eric’s father had kept him aboard, and kept his secret. Eric couldn’t deny the occasional look of resentment whenever things got weird on the ship, and his father was forced to lie to cover up the strange things Eric should _not_ have known.

When Eric reached the entrance to the holodeck, he saw the door was open, but no program had been set. It was just empty space, with Jack standing in the center, wearing his civvies instead of his uniform. It was strange and it made Eric’s stomach twist, his heart flutter in a way he wasn’t used to. Jack turned when Eric walked in, and he lifted one eyebrow.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be on time.”

“I do try to be punctual, Sir,” Eric said, knowing full well that while he was often on _time_ , he wasn’t always _present_ until his caffeine had kicked in.

Jack hummed in thought, then walked to the wall panel and rattled off a very familiar code. “That’s the program you use, isn’t it?”

Eric blinked. “I…yes, Sir,” Eric said, fighting off the way his own confusion began to swirl together with something that felt a little like amusement. He watched with some fascination as Jack fired up the program, and the empty room suddenly became the empty ice rink. “Can I ask…” His words failed when Jack tapped in another code, and for just a second, thousands of bodies flickered to existence in the stands.

After only a blink, they were gone again, and Jack turned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m well versed in the literature of other species, including the Betazoid, but it would be helpful for a first-hand explanation of what it is like for you. Especially as half human.”

Eric couldn’t help his wince at the way Jack said ‘half-human’. Not cruel, not judgmental, just perfunctory. And it was. It was just a fact about Eric, but it was a fact that kept him _other_. “I…” Eric licked his lips, then let out a small breath. “I’m not really sure how to even begin.”

Jack’s brow rose again as he took a couple of steps toward Eric. “You were forced to choose.”

Eric startled at the blunt way Jack spoke, but all the same, he nodded. “My father he uhh…he loved my mother. I mean he loves her. I think she struggled more than I did, teaching me to hide it. She taught me to bake.”

“Bake,” Jack repeated in a flat tone.

“It’s…human cooking? It’s a style of human cooking.”

“I’m familiar with the concept,” Jack said, shrugging one shoulder up.

Eric flushed. “Of course you are. So, yeah. So she taught me to bake, taught me to put everything I had into baking. When things got overwhelming, when I couldn’t stop _feeling_ everything around me, when thoughts would seep into my head and I couldn’t block them out, I’d…I’d whip up a bread dough and knead and knead until my arms hurt and my head was clear.”

“The pie,” Jack said. “When you first came aboard.”

“Working with replicator food isn’t the same as being home, being able to go to a market and get everything fresh, but it’s something. It keeps me…” Eric shrugged as he trailed off.

“Human?” Jack offered.

Eric couldn’t help a laugh. “Something like that.” He bit his lip, then glanced back at the skates. “I don’t understand what this is all for.”

Jack’s arms uncrossed and he pushed past Eric, grabbing up both sets of skates, and held Eric’s out by the laces. “Mr. Bittle, how much do you know about my species?”

“Well, not too much,” Eric confessed. “I mean, y’all only just started interacting with the Federation and…”

“We are not too distant from our Vulcan cousins, or the Romulans,” Jack said, and he backed up, sitting down on the bench though he continued to hold the skates. “We feel…deeply.” There was a rush of something that hit Eric in the chest again, and he had a sudden idea of where this was going. His fingers began to tremble. “Our ancestors were a people of strength. Strong logic, and strong emotions. Each of us dealt with it in a specific way. The Vulcans throwing themselves into logic, the Romulans who rejected Surak philosophy. There are others as well, so distant we cannot be sure they exist anymore. The Debrunites are no different, really. It’s in our DNA, to feel that strength, even if we put everything we have into finding balance.”

Eric sat down without really thinking about it, and began to fiddle with the laces, but his hands froze when Jack gave him a hard look. Then there was something, a push of emotion so strange and so intense, Eric lost his breath. “Oh,” he managed to gasp.

Then it was gone. “You’re going to teach me this,” he said, and gave the skates a tap. “It’s going to be frustrating, and I’m going to bombard you with the things I feel. And you are going to learn to filter them out.”

Eric swallowed thickly, but there was something in Jack’s eyes, something he wanted to see again—reach out and pull into himself. So he nodded, then carefully reached out and took the skate’s from Jack’s hand. “So…I guess we’ll start here. Because there’s a trick to it and doing it wrong will leave you with a busted ankle. I don’t think either one of us wants that.”

\--- --- --- 

Eric supposed he should consider himself lucky that Jack let him retreat to his quarters and sleep off the emotional hangover he’d been given at the hands of his Debrunite Captain. Logic had told him what he would feel from Jack would be a lot, but nothing could had prepared him for the intensity.

Some of the emotions had been genuine. Jack had taken to the skating with frightening ease, but his frustration with the fact that the holo didn’t feel _real_ , didn’t feel like home and ice, hit Eric like a freight train. Jack didn’t hold back, either, and he didn’t pull his emotional punches. At times he projected other things he refused to name, but even in the end, when Eric managed to not collapse after Jack sent him a wave of irritation, and Jack then sent over his pride, Eric could barely handle it.

Jack had merely clapped him on the shoulder and told him once he could remain upright for all of it, they would work on honing his ability—using it to his benefit, tracking people by how they feel. Eric would learn to read the emotions, name them, study the emotions of other species so he could read them. It would help protect the ship, offer them a way of getting a read on approaching vessels before they engaged, and Eric felt a sense of belonging where he never had before.

For now, though, he just wanted a nap. He wanted a nap, and to spend a few moments relishing in the fact that Jack had willingly given Eric pieces of himself that Eric was certain he didn’t share with anyone else. He could feel the ghost of Jack’s joy in his bones, and the ghost of his hand on Eric’s shoulder, and it was with that Eric fell back to sleep, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side-note, I was watching some Next Gen last night and thanks to Troi's mom, I have some really amazing HCs for Betazoid!Suzanne. Also I think I need to do a side-fic of someone trying to court Bitty in the Betazoid way, and Jealous!Captain Jack.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I started calling Jack's ship the Providence instead of the Falconer, and only caught the mistake as I was writing this chapter. That was embarrassing, but it's also fixed in all the chapters now.
> 
> Here we get to meet Mashkov, and discover that no matter what Universe they're in, Ransom still loves him, and Tater still thinks his name is Adam...or Randy. Warnings in this chapter for a mild head injury akin to canon (with faster recovery because you know, space med tech and all that).

“Bittle!”

Eric’s head snapped up, and he blinked, realizing he’d somehow managed to drift off at his station. His cheeks flared red-hot as he felt waves of Jack’s irritation. “Sir.”

Jack sighed, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose. The gesture would be all-too human, and though Jack was half, he never really seemed it. He didn’t, though. He just crossed his arms and lifted a brow. “We’re approaching Providence IV, Mr. Bittle.”

Eric knew this. Of course he knew this, that was the whole mission and he’d been _briefed_ , and he wasn’t an _idiot_ , so what…

“You’ll be in the landing party.”

Eric startled. “Sir? I didn’t think you needed a communications officer to…”

“I don’t,” Jack interrupted almost impatiently. “In fact, Duan is already on the planet and she’ll be heading back with us. I do, however, need a read on some of the people here. Ambassador Mashkov has been dealing with certain…push back during the Federation Treaty signings and it would be helpful if we had a little insight.”

Eric felt his whole body go hot with an anxious flush. “Oh. Sir, I don’t know if I…”

“I trust you, Mr. Bittle, and doubting yourself means you’re doubting your captain.”

Eric’s eyes went wide, and fixed hard on Jack, and were he not staring so keenly, he might have missed the very subtle, very slight twitch in the corner of Jack’s mouth. “Oh my _lord_ ,” he gasped, putting a hand to his heart. “You’re…chirping me, Sir?”

Jack’s eyebrow rose, and he shrugged one shoulder. “Suit up, Mr. Bittle, arrival is in less than ten minutes.”

Eric stared after him dumbly, wondering what happened to his stoic, angry captain.

\--- --- --- 

Although Jack’s subtle attempt at chirping took some of the edge off, Eric couldn’t deny that he was all nerves. When Jack’s soft voice said, “Energize,” and Eric felt the beaming process begin, he almost dissolved into panic.

Of course, he didn’t want to die mid-beam, so he kept it together until they were standing on the polished steps of the Providence IV capital building. Then he let himself shake apart for exactly thirty seconds. By the time he’d pulled himself together, the group was a few paces ahead, and he struggled to keep up.

Shitty was the first to notice, and he hung back until Eric reached them, and slung an arm around him. “Relax, brah. It’s going to be cool.”

Eric wanted to roll his eyes and remind Shitty that he could give the wrong information and screw the whole thing up. Or he could react poorly to trying to read people and get found out and…reported. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what would happen to him, then. A court-martial would be easy compared to what his father would do if Eric managed to out himself.

He didn’t say any of that, though. Even if Jack had been making fun of him a little, he had been right. Jack trusted him, and a Debrunite didn’t place trust easily. If Jack didn’t think Eric was capable, he wouldn’t have brought him along. Jack rarely showed favor toward everyone—his dedication was to his ship, to their missions, to the Federation. Jack only wanted what was best for them—as a whole—and if he thought Eric was part of that, then he was.

And that was what got him through the main doors, and into the meeting hall.

Providence IV was a lot like earth—more water, but the natives were humanoid. Eric couldn’t be entirely sure about their language, since they were all wearing translators, but there was a lilting accent, almost similar to Jack’s in a way, with rounded vowels and harder consonants.

The man sitting at the head of the table had a pleasant smile, a thick brown beard with wide, almost starry eyes. The one next to him had the same welcoming expression, with wide brown eyes, and there was very little difference between them and humans.

Ambassador Mashkov made himself known by rising to his full height, towering over Eric nearly a full foot. He was loud, grinning, striding over to grab Jack into a hug which the Debrunite returned with some trepidation.

Beside him, Eric heard Ransom suck in a breath, and he glanced over to see Ransom grabbing Holster’s arm. “He’s so much bigger in person.”

Which was ridiculous. Ransom had to be as tall as Mashkov, and just as broad. But there was an almost star-struck look on Ransom’s face, and when Eric reached out, he could feel his crewmate’s awe and wonder. It very nearly made him laugh.

But Jack was busy doing introductions, and Eric quickly sobered. “…Oluransi and Birkholtz, as I’m sure you remember.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. Adam and Randy, I’m never forgetting.” He grinned, offering Ransom the Ta’al, though he looked like he was having trouble with his pinky behaving. Eric could sense the eye-roll in Ransom, and the desire to remind Mashkov he’s not _Vulcan_ , but he was too awed by Mashkov’s presence to bother with it, so he just returned it.

Jack huffed a little bit behind him, and turned Mashkov’s direction at Eric. “And this is our new Communications Officer, Lt. Eric Bittle. Eric, Ambassador Alexei Mashkov.”

Eric meant to say hi, but instead he was swept into a hug, engulfed in massive arms, and massive emotions. Mashkov didn’t seem to want to hide anything, and his happiness at meeting everyone was so genuine, it actually made Eric’s eyes water a little.

“Pleasure,” Eric managed once Mashkov had detached himself.

“Where are the Arkarian ambassadors?” Jack asked, but before he got an answer, a door at the far end of the room swung open, and a very short woman with sharp black hair strolled in, walked right up to Jack, and flung herself into his arms.

Eric’s mouth nearly dropped open when he saw Jack’s face go as soft as he’s ever seen it, and when Jack reached his arms around her to tug her into a soft embrace, something inside Eric cracked. He could feel love, affection, relief to be together again, pouring off them both. If they were not lovers, then Eric would eat his hat.

And then something ugly flared in his gut—a feeling of his own.

Envy.

He pushed it aside, and shook himself out of it as the small woman detached from Jack and turned to look at Eric, her eyes bright, and a genuine feeling of excitement to meet Eric rolling off her in waves.

“All of Shitty’s communications didn’t do you justice. Also, bro, I’m so looking forward to pie.” And then she was on him too, and well…if Jack were in love with her, it was hard not to see why.

\--- --- --- 

Though Eric wanted to remain jealous and envious and a little pouty, he was put to work. He was introduced to Sebastien St. Martin, and Randall Martin of Providence IV. They were elected officials, as was their planet’s custom, and Jack quickly explained they were a human-colonized world back when Providence IV was uninhabited after several meteors destroyed a good portion of the blossoming animal life. It had taken years to establish a society, and during that time they cut themselves off from the Federation to properly establish themselves as a separate people.

They had evolved, different to humans, but enough of the same that it was hard to spot the differences. They were kind though, genuine, and Eric didn’t have much trouble holding his own in the room.

It was all fine. He was doing great.

And then the Arkarians arrived, and everything went a little upside down.

Eric was doing okay, though he tried to signal to Jack that something wasn’t entirely upright. He was bombarded by the emotions of anger and greed rolling off them that he could barely speak. And then when Ambassador Yale turned to Eric, he gave him something like a push—though Eric couldn’t have been sure if it was intentional or not since no one should have been able to tell what he was.

But all the same, it was too much. Eric’s body collapsed, and right before everything went black, he felt his head hit the hard floor, and with the pain he felt, unconsciousness was a blessing.

\--- --- --- 

Eric woke what felt like hours later, but maybe it was minutes. All the same, he was on the ship, and he was staring into Dr. Murray’s face who was running a scanner over him. “Easy now,” Murray said as Eric tried to push up. “It was just a concussion and we were able to heal it, but you still need to take it easy for a day or two.”

Eric groaned, feeling humiliated and a little scared that he’d completely destroyed the mission. He licked his lips, his mouth painfully dry. “Are the others still on Providence IV?”

Murray looked vaguely amused. “We’re at warp two, son. We left about an hour ago.”

Eric’s eyes widened in surprise, and this time when he tried to sit up, Murray didn’t stop him. “How…what…did we…”

The doors to medbay slid open, and Shitty poked his head in. When he saw Eric was up, he loped into the room and threw himself on the edge of Eric’s bed, ignoring Murray’s noise of protest. 

“Brah, way to scare the shit out of everyone. I swear, Jack almost single-handedly started a war with the entire Arkarian race.”

Eric’s face went hot. “Did I…did I mess everything up?”

Shitty frowned. “What? M’dude, you don’t remember…”

“He’s probably suffering mild memory loss,” Murry said in a dry voice. “Side-effect from the concussion.”

Shitty hummed in consideration, then said, “You came to long enough to tell Jack not to trust them. There was a small spat, then Robinson took them in for interrogation and went through their communication logs, and found out there were several vessels on the way with a planned attack. They hadn’t even been sent by their Arkarian leaders. They were some rogue faction trying to colonize planets. The attack was thwarted and everything was fine. You slept through the whole thing, apparently.”

“Lord have mercy,” Eric muttered.

Shitty laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You did good, brah.”

Eric shrugged. “If you call keeling over at the push of one strong emotion good…”

“You gave Jack what he needed. He was furious that you were hurt. I’ve never seen that dude react like that.”

Eric felt his cheeks heat up, but he just shrugged. “Well…I’m…he must be glad to be back in space. And uh…to have Commander Duan back?”

Shitty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. You know Jack and his one true love.”

Eric felt his stomach twist, but before he could say anything, Shitty said, “Then again, I don’t think anyone’s love can rival that of Ford and Lardo but we’ve been banned from gossip.”

Eric blinked. “Ford and…” He cleared his throat. “They’re…”

“Dude, I just realized you missed the wedding of the century by like…three months.” He hummed in consideration. “I bet they’ll agree to have a vow renewal. Then I can make my tub juice, and Jack will have to lift the ban on Earth pop music and…” He trailed off as he wandered out into the corridor leaving Eric dumb-struck.

“You may return to your quarters now, Mr. Bittle,” Murray said, his face showing just hints of amusement.

Eric didn’t think he had the strength to probe for emotions, so he merely nodded and wandered out. Instead of going back to his quarters, however, he found himself standing in front of a replicator, pushing in the code for flour, sugar, eggs, butter, chocolate chips, vanilla, and everything else he’d need to make his mother’s famous, Thank You, chocolate chip cookies.

He didn’t need to be well for that, he just needed to be alive and half conscious. It was like second nature, throwing them all together, scooping them out by hand, waiting the impatient minutes as they rose, and spread, and baked into chewy goodness.

When he had enough for a plate full, Eric rummaged around until he found a small pad of paper and a pen—archaic, but perfect. He scribbled a quick little note, then wandered to Jack’s Ready Room. He knocked, and when there was no answer, he let himself in.

The place was empty, colder than most places on the ship, and it was strangely personal. There were books on Earth history lining the walls, photographs of a blonde human woman and a dark haired Debrunite man between an awkward teen who had to be Jack. There were Academy awards framed on the walls, and a small, strange looking plant in a floating terrarium near a bookshelf.

Eric smiled to himself, at how very Jack it was, and then he slipped the plate of cookies on the desk, thinking Jack probably wouldn’t mind if they got a little cold before he ate them. He attached the note under the plate, staring down at the words before he turned to flee.

**Thank you for trusting me, Jack. I’m sorry I let you down, but I hope you’ll give me more time. I want to prove that your faith in me is not misguided. See you for practice in the morning? ERB (:**

\--- --- --- 

Eric was nearly asleep when his datapad beeped softly, and lit up the dark with an incoming message.

_Cpt Jack Zimmerman: See you at 4am sharp, Bittle. And thank you for the cookies. Glad to know you have recovered._

It was with a warmth in his belly that Eric turned into his pillow, and smiled until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta’al- the Vulcan Salute


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Kent Parson is an unsavory fellow. I'm not putting him in the tags because he won't be in this fic again, just mentions, and I don't want any Parse fandom to click on the fic thinking he's a featured character and then be disappointed to find just this one part. But here's my warning for anyone who needs it-- it's basically canon Epikegster except this time Bitty's a Betazoid so he can feel Parse's intent.

“Oh lord have mercy, Mr. Knight what in the world…”

“Quiet, Mr. Bittle, unless you want another three keg stands!”

The large cheer from the back of the room reverberated through Eric’s body, and the alcohol had already lowered his defenses enough that even if he tried to, there was no way he would be able to keep out the thrumming emotion of others. The problem was, Eric couldn’t be sure how much of the dizzy, euphoric feeling was from the alcohol he’d consumed himself, and how much was being projected onto him by the others in the room—many of whom were congregated around a large, ancient earth-style, porcelain bath tub filled with some strange, green concoction that smelled worse than anything Eric had ever come into contact with. Luckily he’d been warned off it, and was only talked into taking mouthfuls of the fizzy beer his father had loved so much.

He didn’t quite get the love for the taste, but he didn’t really mind the feeling. He was still stuck in the waves of others, but it didn’t feel so…oppressive.

Falling to his feet, Eric let out a tiny giggle, and hurried off to check on the pies he’d made up for the people at the party. Seeing most of them were gone, he considered making a few others, but he didn’t trust himself with the replicator in his current state, and he wasn’t about to compromise his reputation, even if the drunk people probably wouldn’t have noticed a difference.

So instead he grabbed a cup of water, then wandered back out to feel the waves of want and excitement and some a little sick. He could feel it just under the heavy thrum of music, and over the din of people excited to just let loose. It was an anniversary celebration for Lardo and Ford, who were somewhere—Eric hadn’t seen them since he’d gotten a sandwiched hug between the two officers, and this seemed more of an excuse to _have_ a party rather than a celebration for them.

The mood between them told Eric they didn’t really mind, either.

He hunkered up against the wall after a few moments, and he was almost knocked over by a familiar surge of emotion he still wasn’t very fluent in, but could recognize from a parsec away. He turned, eyes wide as his captain walked over, wearing his soft, easy half smile, and he leaned up against the wall. “Enjoying the party, Bittle?”

Eric flushed. “Ah. It’s…interesting?”

“How are you doing?” There was slight concern in Jack’s voice, and it made Eric feel…things.

“I thought it might be worse,” Eric confessed. “Sometimes it gets a little…” He gave a tiny shudder because somewhere off, someone was having an intimate moment and for just a burst of a second, he could _feel_ it. Just the edges of it, like a quiet whisper in the back of his mind. Then it was gone. He swallowed thickly, and realized Jack was still looking at him. “Strangely, the alcohol makes it worse and better all at the same time.”

Jack’s eyebrow lifted, the Debrunite gesture for, ‘go on.’ The eyebrow was a Debrunite gesture for a lot of things, and it made Eric feel warm all over that he was beginning to be able to read his captain.

“It’s harder to block it out, but it doesn’t feel like I’m being suffocated. I don’t think it would be a solution to my, you know, problem. But it does make socializing with the crew a little easier.”

Jack let out a soft, huffing ‘haha’ and shrugged. “Could be worse, eh?”

Eric’s grin got a little wider. “Guess it could. I have to say, I am surprised to see you here, Sir.”

“Jack.”

The word was perfunctory and sharp, and for a second, Eric heard it like a command. “S-sorry?”

“Jack,” the captain said again. “It’s…you’re not on duty and we’re friends, right? So right now, Jack.”

“J-jack,” Eric said, stumbling a little bit over the name because never, ever in his life did he ever think he’d get _that_ invitation. “Well then, _Jack_ , I’m surprised to see you here.”

Jack let out another haha, and surprising Eric to his core, reached out and snatched his water, taking a sip of it. “I didn’t want to miss Bitty’s first big epikegster.”

Eric flushed hot from head to toe. “Hah, ah. Are you…you’re chirping me, aren’t you?”

Jack lifted his brow again, like a shrug, and sipped the water once more. As he did this, he stared right at Eric, almost like a challenge with the way his eyebrows rose just a fraction, and the corner of his mouth twitched. _I dare you, Mr. Bittle, to stop me._

Eric grew hotter at the nape of his neck, his breath coming a little quicker, sharper. He felt a sudden, intense desire to draw this moment out for eternity, and he swore that for a second, he felt the same desire echoed back at him from Jack.

And then it was gone, at the sound of a small tone, and a voice. “Sir, you have a communication from the Aces. Captain Parson is requesting your presence.”

Eric felt it then, an overwhelming rush of anxiety so intense, he nearly doubled over. When he looked back up, Jack was speaking into his comm, “I’ll take it in my Ready Room,” though his voice shook and Eric could feel the shock waves pouring off him.

Then he was gone, and Eric was left alone in the corridor.

\--- --- ---

It took him nearly five minutes to find Shitty, who was guarding the tub of strange liquor with a long, stick, curved at the end. He was wearing nothing more than what looked like Starfleet issued uniform pants which had been jaggedly cut at the knees. The rest of him was bare apart from a strip of cloth tied around his forehead, and purple tinted glasses hanging low over his nose.

“Bits, m’dude! You’re here. You’ve come to imbibe?”

Eric shook his head. “Lord, no. I just…I…something just happened and I was wondering uh…” He swallowed, could feel Shitty’s curiosity pouring off him. “Captain Parson?”

Shitty’s eyebrows shot up. “What about him?”

“Jack…the captain,” he corrected swiftly, “we were talking, and then he got a call from him. He felt…” Eric flushed. “I didn’t _mean_ to feel it, it just hit me and I…”

“Relax, brah. I don’t think Jack minds, considering he’s training you to read him,” Shitty said, a half smile on his lips. Still, Eric could feel worry pouring off him.

“When Jack got the notification, he felt…upset. Anxious, I think. It was a lot. It was overwhelming.”

Shitty was quiet for a long moment, and Eric worked as hard as he could to keep himself separate from whatever Shitty was feeling. “You need to understand, Bits, that what Jack and Captain Parson have between them—it’s complicated, and it’s a long, long history. Hell, I don’t think any of the crew knows more than the basics. And we’ve all met Parson. He’s a pretty chill brah—real down to earth, and Jack can get a little…” He trailed off, and Eric nodded, though he didn’t entirely understand what Shitty was getting at. “Sometimes people bring out the worst in each other.”

Eric bit his lip, but nodded again. “Okay. But he seemed…not fine. I…how bad would it be if I maybe went to, you know, check on him?”

Shitty shrugged. “You do you, brah. Don’t be surprised if Jack gets a little pissy but I think if anyone can get him to calm down, it’s you.”

Eric absolutely and completely did not want to read into any of that. Because his feelings for Jack were already strange and complicated, and he was still trying to sort himself from the waves of others around him. But he knew a couple of things—one, that Jack was important to him. Two, that the last thing he wanted was for Jack to feel that level of anxiety and stress all on his own. And three, he would do almost anything to keep Jack smiling.

Deep down he knew what it meant, but for now, he had to take this situation one step at a time. And that first step was heading to the captain’s Ready Room and making sure he was okay.

\--- --- ---

“…I’m sure that’ll make your dad real proud.”

Eric was shaking, and confused by the bombarding emotions hitting him through the communication screen in Jack’s room, from Jack himself, and from how it was making Eric feel. He’d never met the Captain of the Aces personally, and seeing him larger than life on the screen was…overwhelming.

Eric knew Parson’s stats in Starfleet. He was one of the most highly decorated officers there, well on his way to Admiral. He knew that Parson and Jack had been in the same year at the Academy and were vying for top of the class. Then something happened and Jack left, and Parson was awarded the honors and given his first ship. Straight from the Academy to captaining a vessel and that was nearly unheard of—apart from Jack’s father but Bob had long-since retired, and Eric hadn’t spent enough time looking into the Greats to really understand the gravity of who Bob was, and what it meant that Jack hadn’t quite followed in his footsteps.

He was feeling it now, the buried, stale resentment from Jack, and the anger and fury directed toward Parson. He could feel the deliberate cruelness coming from Parson, the satisfaction when Parson realized his words hit home, the way he’d planned them to.

Before Eric could say anything, the screen was black, and Jack was waving Eric out of the room. It closed, and though Eric stood there and felt the waves and waves of swirling panic and rage and sadness and things he didn’t have names for, there was nothing he could do.

So he turned on his heel, made his way past the party, and got to working on the one thing he _could_ do.

By the time he was finished, and had the strange, crumbly but sweet and cold pastry— whose recipe he’d found in the Debrunite Culture records— now on a plate, Jack’s Ready Room was empty. Eric left them on his desk, with a note.

**I’m here if you need me, Jack. <3 **

He wasn’t sure how his captain would take it, but at the very least they were friends now, and he hoped Jack would see the gesture for what it was. Even if deep down, he might have meant something a little bit more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is hella short, but there will be an update tomorrow to make up for it. It just ended where I needed it to end, ja know?

Eric jumped at the sound of the door sliding open, and then he felt a moment of strange relief at the idea that baking still worked—that his mama had, at least in this instance, been right about it. He could still block it all out when he gave himself into the dough.

It was bread on the counter tonight, dough that was almost ready to go in for the first rise, and Eric would have gotten right back to it if the man hovering in the doorway hadn’t been Jack. He’d seen the captain just twice since the night before, since the call from Captain Parson, and the tumultuous emotions raging.

Jack seemed calm now, closed off and hard to read, which Eric had to appreciate, because it had been a lot. But he was surprised to see him there.

“You made hemta’ashis,” Jack said by way of greeting.

Eric flushed. “Ah. Well. Yes,” he said, and rubbed the back of his neck, forgetting a moment that there was still bits of tacky dough and flour on his skin. He grimaced and dropped his hand to the counter. “It…you seemed like maybe that night ended not so great. I thought you could um. Use a little comfort food.”

“I haven’t found them made properly outside of Delta Vega,” Jack said. He walked forward, as always looking strange in his civvies, and he leaned his hip against the counter.

“It was hard to find the right recipe, and hard to get the ingredients to come out of the replicator right, but I was hopin’…” Eric trailed off with a shrug.

“Thank you,” Jack said, a little breathy, and there was a rush of unrestrained gratitude which was almost too much for Eric to bear. “You overheard some of the conversation, I take it?”

“I was worried. I could feel ah…” Eric shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to,” he went on in a rush. “All that alcohol made it hard to block out. And J-Jack,” he stuttered, remembering what the captain had asked him to call him when he was off duty.

Jack merely nodded.

“The things I felt from _him_ …”

Jack’s eyes widened just a fraction, and one eyebrow lifted. “You could feel him?”

Eric’s cheeks pinked, but he nodded, squaring his shoulders as bravely as he could. “He…wasn’t feelin’ very nice things, Jack. And after, it was all um. You.”

Jack nodded, and he didn’t look embarrassed or ashamed, merely resigned. “Parson and I have a long, complicated history. We owe each other a lot of apologies for the past…”

“Maybe,” Eric cut in, a little horrified at himself for interrupting his captain, but he was feeling braver in their friendship now. “Maybe for the past, but the cruelty I felt last night…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said firmly. “It isn’t logical nor is it conducive to healthy emotions to focus on what Parson wants from me now. He is a Captain, as am I, and it is required that we communicate from time to time. He still has an emotional effect on me. I was taken by surprise at the strength of it after this time, but Parson is someone who understands my weaknesses better than most.” Jack paused, then said, “Not better than you.”

Eric couldn’t help the small, surprised sound he made. “Jack, I would never…”

“I am aware, Bittle,” he said, and shot Eric the tiniest upquirk of his lips. “I would not have shown you, had I not trusted you. I made a mistake with Parson once, and do not intend to make it a second time.”

Eric nodded, and wished just a little Jack would share with him what happened, how a person like Captain Parson could have such a hold on him. Eric was no fool, he knew it was more than just a platonic friendship. He could feel it radiating at the edges of Jack’s anxiety—but it didn’t feel like his parents when they would argue, or the time his mother took him to stay with the neighbors when things were really bad. It wasn’t a lover’s quarrel. It was something stale and toxic, and Eric was more than grateful Jack wasn’t giving into it.

He wasn’t going to ask though. It wasn’t his place, and he wasn’t ready to risk whatever fragile thing that was building between them. So instead he said, “Would you like to help me with a pie for tonight’s supper?”

Jack hummed. “I’m not sure I would be an asset to your baking, Bittle. I have never…it has never been something I’ve tried my hand at.”

Eric laughed softly. “It’s not that hard. And you know, it’s real soothing. Gets you out of your head, and that might not be such a bad thing for you, Sir.” He said it in a chirpy way, which made Jack raise both eyebrows, which made Eric flush.

For a long moment, Jack was silent, and just when Eric thought he was about to be rejected, Jack pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and sighed, turning fully toward the counter. “You will have to guide me, and not be too critical when I surely mess this up.”

Eric beamed at him, and laid a hand on his arm softly. “Oh honey, I think you’re gonna do just fine.”

\--- --- --- 

“Oh you fool, Eric Bittle,” he murmured at himself in the mirror, hours later, cheeks flushed and hands still dusted with flour as he covered his face. “Never fall for your Captain.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think there's probably about 12 chapters total for this fic, but I plan to do more in this universe, and they'll all be tagged under the series. I have a few more fic ideas rolling around in my brain too. So keep an eye out :D

The anxiety around the ship had Eric in a tizzy until he managed to corner Ransom, who then explained that a new planet was being accepted into the Federation, and that all Starfleet ships were expected to attend. “It means parents, Bits,” Ransom said, clapping his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “More importantly, it means Bad Bob.”

Eric’s eyes widened, then he rushed to his quarters to find a message already waiting on his datapad.

_Dicky, your daddy won’t be able to get away, but I’ll be on planet, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what you’ve got going on on that big Starfleet ship of yours. Love you, sweetheart._

Eric felt like his stomach was going to crawl out of his throat. Not just because it’s his mother, but because it’s his _mother_ and she’s a Betazoid so she’ll be able to feel _everything_ and it’s just their way to let it all out. Not even spending so many years in rural Georgia on Earth took the edge off the brutal honesty.

He was still pale, still out of sorts when he entered the bridge for his shift. Jack was lounging in his captain’s chair, and turned his head toward Eric, one eyebrow quirking up, and his mouth tipped down when he saw the expression on Eric’s face.

“Mr. Bittle? A moment?”

“Sir?” Eric asked as he approached.

Jack rose, and then tipped his head toward Eric’s, keeping his voice low. “Are you ill?”

Eric frowned, then let out a huffing laugh. “Oh lord, no, Sir. I’m not ill. Unless you call paralyzed by a nervous breakdown. That means…”

“Eric,” Jack said, speaking even softer, “I am familiar with the term.”

“Right,” Eric said, flushing with embarrassment. He didn’t know _what_ Jack had gone through, but he knew it had been something. “Right. I just…my mother.”

Jack’s eyebrow lifted again.

“She’s going to be with my father. She’ll…she wants to see me. On the ship.”

“I do not understand the problem, Mr. Bittle.”

Eric slapped a hand to his face, then dragged it down with a slow groan. “She’s…Jack, she’s like me, only a hundred times more…intense. And honest. She just, she says whatever comes into her mind because Betazoids are telepathic. They don’t hide things because they _can’t_ and I…I haven’t exactly told her what we’re doin’ here. She doesn’t know everyone knows and if she finds out that I’m…that you’re training me to, you know…”

“I understand,” Jack said. He frowned a long moment, then sighed. “I will attempt to work out some calculations for this predicament. At the moment, I do not see any way around her finding out. My only solution would be to tell her before she finds it out from someone else on board.”

Eric sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Jack hesitated, then reached out and for the briefest pass, brushed his hand along the back of Eric’s neck. “Whatever happens after, you still have us, Mr. Bittle. And you still have the Falconer.”

Eric couldn’t help the small, pleased smile, and he bowed his head a little shyly. “Thank you, Sir.”

Jack inclined his head just once. “There are some communications I would like reports on. If you’d be so inclined.”

“Right away, Sir,” Eric said, and though it didn’t exactly solve any issues with his mother, at the very least, he knew the crew had his back. And that…well, that meant everything.

\--- --- --- 

In the end, Eric opted to beam down planet-side to meet with his mother. The civilization on the newly accepted planet was humanoid, though most of their race had a range of skintone between greens and blues, and most didn’t have hair. But they were peaceful, advanced, and the atmosphere was earthlike, slightly more oxygen-rich, but breathable. It also had thirty percent more water, and most of the species had adapted to a more amphibian-like lifestyle than Eric was used to.

But there were land-homes, and small cities, the capital with barely enough room to hold all of the delegates and their guests. When Eric broke away from his crew to meet his mother, he took a pause to glance up at the sky, momentarily awed by the sea of ships hovering just outside of the atmosphere, framed by the four moons which were largely visible in the daylight sky.

With a sigh, squaring his shoulders, Eric followed the coordinates to the small café, where he eventually spotted his mother sitting in the sun, a floppy hat over her brow, sipping something bright blue from a tall, thin glass.

She was immediately on her feet when Eric approached, and she took him into her arms. “Oh, my little one,” she breathed, and tipped her forehead against his. He could hear her voice in his head immediately, and though he was sick with nerves about what she’d say when she found out the truth, it was still a huge comfort to be with someone who was like him. _How are you?_

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said swiftly.

She frowned at the use of his voice, but he felt her mind pull away from his and he was profoundly grateful she was giving him a chance to explain rather than pulling the information out herself.

“You know you can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

Eric inclined his head, then breathed, then looked her in her eyes—as dark and deep as his own. **_Mother, the crew knows about me. Knows what I am. My captain has been training me on using my abilities to benefit the crew._**

Suzanne’s eyes widened. “Dicky,” she said.

Eric held up his hand when he could feel her offense, her outrage because immediately he could feel her thoughts—she believed they were using him. “It’s not like that, mother. Please believe me. I’ve felt their intentions. They just want what’s best and I…I want to be useful. As myself. Not as Human Eric. Not hiding who I am. Jack—my captain—he’s been workin’ real hard and he believes in me.”

He felt the push of her against him then, drawing out the memories of the last few months. He saw her cheeks pink, saw her sigh, her shoulders tense. “This is a dangerous game, little one.”

“It’s not a game,” he started.

“The Debrune…”

“Mother, please,” he begged. Betazoid culture was about honesty, but it was about sharing emotion, and he knew she never fully understood races like Jack’s. “It’s not…he’s nice.”

“Your feelings are clouding your judgement, Dicky. You know your daddy and I have fought long and hard on how to raise you, and he won in the end, because you and him seemed so darn set on you following in his footsteps. But you’re not just his, little one. You’re mine too, and what you are is too good to be wasted like this.”

“I don’t feel I’m being wasted,” Eric said, sullen and hurt. “I felt wasted when I was at the Academy trying to pretend like I couldn’t feel every ounce of frustration from my superior officers—like I couldn’t feel the disgust coming from the ones who knew who I was, and their sick pleasure when I failed. It was a waste when I had to pretend like I didn’t know why those boys locked me in a closet all night and…”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Eric pursed his lips and let her feel him, fully and open. “This is the most I’ve been myself ever, mother. And I don’t intend to give up now. I met with you here because when you board the ship tomorrow, you’ll know. And it seemed only fair I was honest before it all hit you like that.”

“Your feelings for the captain, they can’t go anywhere, Dicky,” she said, warning in both her feeling and tone.

Eric flushed. “I’m aware, mother. I’m not foolish enough to think he’d even be interested in someone like me.”

“People like that, Dicky, they don’t…they can’t. Not with people like us. Do you understand? He’ll never give his heart to you, not fully. They never embrace their human side, and you need that.”

Eric felt himself grow angry, thinking of Jack and what he’d been through, and how their friendship had grown, thinking of Ransom and how kind and wonderful he was, and it was a cruel reminder of how his mother could be…so herself. “I’m happy. And you can let me worry about my own future.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she eventually conceded, sat back in her chair, and finished her drink.

\--- --- --- 

“…and this is where I get my baking done.” Eric turned, not bothering to hide his nerves because what was the point. But he was on edge, waiting for her to say something—anything. To out how he felt to someone in the room.

But his mother had been the paragon of earth manners as she was introduced around to the crew. And she even got a little fluttery when they ran into Jack and Bob in the corridor. Jack looked slightly take aback by their presence, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides for the duration of the talk.

Suzanne said very little, though, apart from congratulating Bob on his most recent medal, and Jack on getting to captain such a fine vessel. Eric tried to meet Jack’s gaze, tried to assess what was going on in his head without prying too far, but Jack wouldn’t look at him, and eventually they parted ways.

Suzanne hugged Eric when it was over, and kissed his cheek before she stepped onto the transporter platform. “Just don’t forget where you come from, little one,” she murmured, and it wasn’t the first time he’d heard that from her. It wouldn’t be the last, either. “You’re half human, but you’re also half mine.”

Then she was gone, with her words not only echoing in his ears, but the feeling of how much she meant them, battering away at the inside of his ribs, along with the beat of his heart.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, I'm drowning in papers and I should be working on a research paper right now but if I didn't take a small fanfic break, I was going to lose it. So here's 1100 words of Zimbits finally becoming Zimbits.
> 
> One more chapter, then an epilogue. I'll probably write more in this universe so check that out in the future. Also I'll reply to comments asap, once I can breathe without choking on textbook pages....

Eric startled almost violently when he looked up to see Jack there, leaning casually on the side of the rink. He was dressed in his uniform, and was wearing the scowl that told Eric he’d just come from the bridge, but the feeling Eric was getting off him wasn’t annoyance. At least, it wasn’t directed at him.

Things had been tense since they’d left the new Federation planet, since their parents had all taken their own ships back to their lives, leaving their children—adults in their own right—to clear up the emotional messes they’d left behind. It wasn’t all bad, but falling asleep, Eric could still hear the echo of his mother’s voice, trying to keep her claws in him. Trying to remind him that to her, Jack was wrong.

And it set Eric more on edge than he’d ever been, and he couldn’t seem to help avoiding Jack over the last few days. He felt guilty, of course, but he wanted to move past it. Jack wasn’t attracted to him anyway, and it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about when it came to disappointing his mother.

It didn’t help, though, the pang he felt in his chest every time his captain’s fierce, sharp blue eyes landed on him.

Like now, it seemed, as Eric came to a skidding halt out of a spin.

He put one hand to his chest, breathing hard. “Lord, I didn’t even hear you come in. You been there long, Sir?”

“I’m off duty, Bittle,” Jack said mildly.

Eric skated to the edge of the rink, and in spite of his whirring emotions, he still nudged Jack. “Am I still Bittle, then?”

Jack lifted a brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Bitty. I wasn’t…I wasn’t sure. After the visit with your mother…”

“I…Jack,” Eric said helplessly.

Jack shook his head, holding up a hand for silence. “I understand. I know perfectly well you’re still coming into your abilities, that you haven’t had as much training as your mother, so it’s only natural she’d be able to pick up on things you’re not just yet. I was hoping to,” he hesitated, which was rare for him. “I was hoping I might get a chance to explain myself, since often thoughts and emotions don’t convey as clearly and logically as words. But I suppose she told you.”

Eric blinked at him. “Jack. I’m not sure what…”

“I understand why it would make you uncomfortable,” Jack said. “It’s not unheard of, of course, for two people of the same crew to…couple. Some of the greatest pioneers—Jim Kirk and his first officer, Spock, maintained a marriage for many years, but it’s not always possible and I…”

“Jack,” Eric said, a little breathless. He reached out, in spite of himself, and when he touched Jack’s arm, he felt a spike of that unfamiliar emotion he always got from Jack. It made his fingers tingle, up his arm, and made his pulse pound. “Jack, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your mother,” Jack said, a little slower this time. “She made it very plain by the way she was looking at me. She knew.”

“Knew what?” Eric said, now a little exasperated. He looked Jack full in the face and gave the smallest push into his captain’s mind. He didn’t get words, but images—of Eric baking, of Eric skating, of him singing softly under his breath. And all accompanied by that tingling warmth. The thing was, Eric was no fool, but he’d spent way too long hiding who he was, and believing that the best he could hope for was a vague acceptance. So the thought of even considering whatever Jack was sending him was _more_ …well…

“I’m experiencing feelings for you, Bittle. Bitty,” he amended, and there was a very faint, greenish blush on Jack’s cheeks, and the tips of his ears. “Romantic feelings.”

Eric made a small noise in the back of his throat, incapable of doing anything more than that. “I…you. When?” he finally forced himself to say.

Jack shrugged, a very human gesture, the way his shoulders hunched up near his pointed ears. His flush deepened, but he steadfastly held Eric’s gaze. “I’m unsure when the feelings began. They were unusual for me, as I have not considered allowing myself to explore anything romantic with a member of my crew, but it seemed that you were the exception, whether I wished it or not.” Jack’s hands, resting on the side of the rink, curled into his palm, then opened again. “I don’t expect reciprocation of the feelings…”

“Oh.” Eric cleared his throat, then dragged a hand down his face and tried to convince himself this was real, that this wasn’t some elaborate fantasy that the holodeck had conjured up. The thought terrified him, actually, and instead of saying anything to Jack, he rushed to the panel and shut it down. His eyes closed, and he took a breath, then turned. His ankles felt weak on the blades which were now on empty floor and not ice, but he stayed steady.

Jack was still there.

The program ended, but Jack was still there.

They locked eyes, and Eric’s breath caught in his throat as Jack crossed the distance between them in just a few, quick strides. One hand came to Eric’s waist, steadying him as his knees went weak. The other reached up, cupping his cheek, palm warm against his skin.

Eric knew the Debrunites were like the Vulcans. They didn’t press lips together to kiss. Their exchanges were all in the hands, in the fingers. But Jack was half human, just like Eric, and there was something, yet again, distinctly human about this. The way Jack leaned in, pressed his hand in a little harder, his breath warm as it came out in soft, almost rapid puffs.

“Bitty,” Jack murmured. “Bits.”

Eric couldn’t do more than nod, and reach up as high as he could which was easier on the skates as Jack’s hand tightened on him. He drew Eric in closer, and then their lips touched. Eric’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt Jack press against him harder, hold him more firm, their bodies a pressed line from shoulders to groin.

Eric let himself have this, lean into it, drink in every moment because it was his first. It was the first time anyone had ever wanted him like this, and he could feel it now, pouring from Jack in a mixture of that tingling warmth, and relief. It was twisting up in his own emotions, wrapping him like a blanket, cocooning him in waves of affection and Eric thought if he drowned in it, it would be the most euphoric way to die.

Jack backed off first, his eyes heavy-lidded, and he dropped his hand from Eric’s cheek to his shoulder. “I hope that was acceptable.”

Eric couldn’t help a tiny giggle, and he reached up, twisting his fingers with Jack’s. “We should go somewhere. We should talk. Can we…”

“Yes,” Jack interrupted, sounding breathless. “Yes. My quarters. If that is acceptable to you?”

“Yes, Jack. It’s acceptable to me,” Eric said, then he pushed up and kissed him again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short epilogue up next, and I have some other stuff planned for this series. A few one-shots, and another multi-chaptered fic dealing with Bitty coming into his abilities, and the two of them coming out.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter, mentions of Jack's past relationship with Parse, the overdose, and anxiety--sort of canon, but rearranged to fit this universe. About canon levels of the overdose narrative.

Eric could have conjured up a hundred and one plausible and implausible fantasies about he and Jack ended up. From sweeping declarations of love to outright, painful rejection, but never in his life did he ever picture himself lying in Jack’s bed, his head pillowed on Jack’s stomach, the Debrunite’s fingers gently pushing and pulling through his hair.

He stared up at the ceiling, then tugged the blanket around him a little tighter because Jack’s room was _so cold_ , and he turned his head to look at the other man who was staring, eyes wide and fond. “Can I ask you,” Eric began, then took a breath. “ _If_ I were to ask you. About…Captain Parson…”

He felt a push of trepidation, fear, and an old sort of pain Eric couldn’t really read beyond that, and he instantly felt guilty for asking.

“Of course you don’t have to. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Jack shook his head, and his hand drifted from Eric’s hair, briefly touching the side of his face before going back to stroking along his scalp. “I have not spoken about my relationship with Captain Parson in many years,” Jack said, very slowly. “I’m not ashamed, nor do I deny it happened. And it does not cause me much pain anymore to speak of it. But some things are better left in the past.”

“Of course,” Eric said in a rush. “I didn’t mean…”

“I still,” Jack said, a little stilted, and cleared his throat. His hand stopped moving, just resting, nestled in Eric’s hair. “I wish to tell you. Someday perhaps, I could show you.” When Eric frowned at him, a little confused, Jack brought his other hand to Eric’s face, first and middle finger under Eric’s eye, his ring and pinky just above his brow. It was a fleeting touch, but enough to feel a spark of…something. “But not now.”

“Okay,” Eric said, just a little breathless. “I didn’t know you could…I wasn’t sure if that was just a Vulcan thing… I mean, the Romulans…”

Jack made a sharp, derisive noise, and Eric fell quiet. “We did not reject certain aspects of our heritage the same as Romulans did. As it is important to the Vulcans, the Debrunites also find being able to connect our minds to those around us—to those we care about—important.”

Eric frowned. “My mother,” he started, then sighed.

Jack stared at him, but took pity on him and said, “Parson—Kent—and I were in the academy together. I suspect you know this.”

“I do,” Eric said, grateful for the out. For now. He knew he’d tell Jack eventually, about his mother, but it was a lot right then, and they were so…so new.

“We met…he was human, I was fascinated by him. I had not spent much time around humans, apart from my mother. He was…not nearly as nurturing as she was.” There was a tone to Jack’s voice that made Eric probe a little further, and he felt both frustration, and a surprising, warm affection which made Eric grin. “He, I believe, was fascinated by me just the same. Was interested in how much it would take for me to tap into my human side.”

Jack sighed as Eric winced, because he knew what that felt like—that othering, that pressure to pick one over the other as though you couldn’t co-exist as both.

“I did not do well. I inherited anxiety from my human genetics, and I was unaware of this largely until I left Delta Vega. As the years at the Academy went on, things with Parson escalated until eventually I…” Jack hesitated.

“It’s okay, Jack,” Eric said softly.

“They created a specific regiment I was taking to help with my trouble regulating and adjusting. I began to use more and more of the medication until the night before we were to find out who was graduating at the top of the class. I’m not sure what led me to make the decision, but I took too much, and Kent went on to captain his ship, and I went home with my parents.”

Eric pushed up, then shifted so he could lay along Jack’s side, and he touched his face very gently before bringing his face in to kiss him.

After a long moment, Jack pulled away, a small grin on his face. “Though it is unusual for people of my species to appreciate such a thing, my father loves human kisses.”

Eric laughed quietly. “He seems like an interesting guy. I’m…I hope I can meet him one day, under better circumstances.”

Jack reached out, touching Eric’s face then trailed fingers down his arm. “You will.”

Eric felt something was important about this gesture, and he let his arm go pliant as Jack urged it up, urged his palm out. Then Jack’s first two fingers touched his at the tip, and Eric felt an almost overwhelming wash of affection coursing through him as Jack’s fingers brushed around the back, and down toward his wrist.

Swallowing thickly, Eric leaned his head in until his forehead was pressed to Jack’s. “I like you so much.”

Jack chuckled very softly. “And I you, Eric.”

After a long moment, Eric lay back on the pillows, still close enough that his body was touching Jack’s in several spaces—all of which he was hyper aware of now, and he realized then he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. “What does this mean for us, Jack? What I am, it could still get me thrown off the ship, let alone what it could do to you if the rest of the world found out and I…”

“Eric.” Jack’s voice was firm, but not unkind as he rolled toward him and lifted up onto his elbow. He reached out, touching his fingers to Eric’s again before he brought Eric’s hand in to kiss his knuckles with his mouth. “Why don’t we…take things slow. Learn this, learn us, before we worry about what the rest of the world might think.” He stopped, kissing Eric’s knuckles again, but before Eric could speak, he went on. “For what it’s worth, I don’t care.”

Eric frowned. “What do you…”

“I mean,” Jack said, “that Starfleet should do better by other races, better by your people. You are an asset, to me, to the ship, to the crew.” Jack squeezed his hand. “You would have more faith in yourself if you had known that you were capable and worthy, and eventually the Federation will see that. Eventually there will be Betazoids aboard ships, and no one will think they don’t belong.”

Eric let out a shaking breath. “I…hope so.”

“I have faith,” Jack said, no nonsense in his tone, no nonsense in the feeling he let push into Eric. “For now, we can keep this between us, but I don’t want keep it between us forever. I’m not ashamed to have feelings for you, Eric. I don’t like you in _spite_ of what you are.”

Eric was absolutely helpless, right in that moment, to do anything other than lean forward, and kiss Jack breathless.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue of pure fluff, and credit goes to the amazing Ngozi and her amazing update with I love yous exchanged for inspiring this scene.

Eric was half-lost in the rolling of the pie dough, the motion of it putting him in a near meditative state which was so familiar, it was almost like breathing. The day had been stressful, a run-in with a Klingon ship who claimed they wanted to conflict, but Jack had brought Eric onto the bridge to surreptitiously read the situation and give them all a head’s up. Eric had been able to read their intention, the Klingon Captain a decent man telling the truth, but Eric had picked up hostility from somewhere nearby, and in the end, had been able to locate an officer with the intent to fire on the Falconer.

There had been a moment of abject fear, when Eric had seen anger in the Klingon Captain’s eyes at the accusation, and though Jack didn’t give Eric away, he hinted that someone on the ship had the ability to read their crew. For a moment, it looked like there was going to be a fight, that the Falconer would be fired on. Jack was calm, poised as ever, logical as ever, and eventually the Klingons were able to see reason, and stop conflict before it could begin.

They left with a tense agreement of peace, and Eric had been excused to go shake apart in his quarters. He’d held it together, though, and even if the tension had stayed with him most of the day, he was proud of himself for the progress.

It had been an interesting few weeks, this thing he had going with Jack. Secret touches here and there, Jack sneaking into his quarters, Eric waiting for Jack in his Ready Room, the pair of them using the holodeck for dates. Eric was pretty sure the rest of the crew was going to start suspecting something soon, but all he could feel from them now was a relief that Eric was feeling secure on the ship, and that Jack was no longer gunning for him.

Eric almost laughed when he considered the half of it, and keeping totally secret held a stress he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with long-term. But for now, keeping it between them was a little bit fun, and added a little heat when the pair of them quietly brushed fingers under the table during meals, or when Jack crowded him into a supply closet to steal human kisses.

Smiling to himself, Eric reached for his pie dish when suddenly there were hands at his waist. Baking had always been the way he’d kept his mind from wandering into the minds of others, so it wasn’t surprising Eric hadn’t heard someone come in—or felt them. But all the same, he let out an embarrassingly loud noise of surprise, and turned his head to see Jack smirking down at him.

“Good lord, I’m gonna get you a bell.”

Jack hummed, lifting a brow as Eric turned back to the counter, but before he could go back to his pie, Jack leaned down and pushed his nose into the side of Eric’s neck. “Imzadi,” he murmured.

Eric froze, his entire body going flush, and his hands trembled with the weight of that word. He’d heard it before, whispered very quietly between his mother, to his father, and although he spoke very little Betazed—very little existed, as his mother had always told him, words were almost never necessary between those of his kind—he knew that word. He’d always wondered if he would ever be that to someone.

And he also knew Jack. He knew his Debrunite Captain never used words without a purpose. It meant only one thing—that Jack had looked it up, and knew the significance of it. And he was choosing to use it now.

Eric’s shaking hands knocked the pie dish to the floor, and he heard it crack. “Oh…I…lord…”

“I’m sorry. Eric,” Jack said, a little helplessly.

Eric, who was halfway to bending down to tend to the broken ceramic, straightened back up and with the speed he possessed in his smaller body, managed to crowd Jack back against the counter. His hand went to Jack’s face instantly. “Sweetpea.”

Jack’s expression softened, and the anxiety he was radiating faded into something easy and affectionate. “I hope it is not offensive, that I would call you that.”

“You…you know what it…I mean, you know what saying it…”

“I am aware,” Jack said. “It is Ashayam. It is Imzadi.” Jack curled his hand around Eric’s wrist, drawing his palm from Jack’s cheek, to his mouth where he kissed the soft, warm skin. “It is beloved.”

Eric shuddered all over, and let himself fall into Jack, let his big arms encircle Eric warm and safe and perfect. “I love you too,” he murmured.

Jack grinned at him, pressed their fingers together, then leaned his head down and kissed him.

Eyes falling closed, Eric let the weight of the kiss, of those words, of his feelings sink under his skin. It felt right. It felt perfect. It felt like everything he’d ever hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashayam- a fan-created Vulcan word for Beloved (which I've appropriated for the Debrunites since they're closer to Vulcans than the Romulans are)
> 
> Imzadi- A Betazoid word for Beloved (as can be heard on the episode Haven, in Star Trek TNG)


End file.
